Rain Day
by RenTheCrystalPony
Summary: ¿What happens when a writer runs out of ideas? She will look for new ones that's for sure. ¿But where will these journeys take her? Who knows...
1. Chapter 1

Rain

It was a beautiful morning, the rain falling down and striking the window made a perfect symphony for the perfect dream, just to stay in bed all day and do nothing but to sleep and dream of that perfect life of mine…

Obviously, it wasn't my case.

I had to stay awake thanks to those feral thunders that I was really afraid of. It was a fear that I didn't understand, but in any case I kept working on my latest book, I needed to deliver it in two days and a book with barely 500 words was not considered anything but a short story. My nerves were so sensitive thanks to the coffee that even the beautiful rain sounded like hammering on my window.

This wasn't good.

Somehow I ended up leaving my work (yet again, unfinished) on the table and taking my brand new hoodie, it wasn't waterproof, but I needed some fresh air, anyway I could have it. The morning rain was barely a bother now, leaving some weak drops only to fall, I passed by Sugarcube Corner with wet hooves, the last thing I needed was more sugar on my system. I stopped under some cover to look up, and see the rain falling down to the ground in elegant fashion, it was a relaxing sight. But my body was getting cold and the hoodie was already too wet to be used again, I was trapped under this cover, concentrating so much on the cold sensation of the wind passing through my fur, chilling my spine every second.

Maybe I was too concentrated to hear the breathing that was behind me, but that was until that breathing turned into a voice.

-Good rain, ¿huh? - The voice was a calmed, yet strong and comfortable sound. –Is awfully strange to see rain on this part of Equestria, maybe the Pegasus went a little too further from Sweet Apple Acres, heh, I don't know...

I didn't knew what to say, I wasn't expecting to see or encounter anypony else, and I was too shocked even to turn around and try to spot the pony that called that.


	2. Chapter 2

A Nice Welcome

-Don't worry, I don't bite. – The eyes of that pony were awfully close to me (as its muzzle), but somehow I didn't felt uncomfortable, the green of its eyes were one of the most calming things I could have encountered, and I could have stared at that deep green for hours if the pony hadn't taken an step back. –Heh, sorry for the proximity, I didn't thought you would turn around so violently, no offense though. – I could feel the awkwardness on its voice, obviously it was ashamed.

-E-eh, don't worry, I think it was my fault to turn around in such way.- I could barely believe I saying sorry for something it was not my fault (maybe its eyes helped a bit). –Perhaps, ¿you can tell me your name? – It was the only coherent thing I thought I could say at that moment.

-Oh, yeah, sorry, heh….my name's Mountain Dust, pleased to meet ya. – I could hear some accent on that last phrase, but I decided not to make conclusions just yet, and so, I presented myself.

-Well, Mountain Dust, my name is White Pencil. Not a nice name, but it fits perfectly.

-Oh, ¿so you are a writer? – Well it had intelligence, which was a perk.

-Indeed…or at least I used to be, before I ran out of ideas. But there's something _that I'm really afraid to ask_ I can't actually tell, ¿are you a mare, or a stallion? – It was something that its own "duster" was hiding from me, because the only thing I could actually see were its eyes, and its neutral voice tone wasn't helping either.

-¿Isn't really obvious?, let me tell you, lady. I'm asked that too frequently to be considered more than a thing that you just " _wear off"…_ and yes, I am a MARE. – She said this in a bothered tone, letting know that she was actually annoyed by the question, and discovering a part of the "duster" she was carrying, letting me see her face and to assure that she was a mare.

-I'm truly sorry about that, but the clothes you are wearing didn't let me see you, Dust. –I tried my best to calm her enragement.

-Ah yeah * _sigh*_ don't worry about it. –The tone was more of resignation than acceptance, but I was happy with the result.

-Anyway, what brings you here at this very moment, ¿if I'm allowed to ask? – The rain was now only a simple cold breeze, but truly, cold.

-Well, I actually was onwards my home, but the rain caught me off guard.

-Oh, that's a shame…But, ¿where do you live? If you don't mind the question.

-Over there. – She said, pointing with her yellow, wet hoof a rather old looking house, it looked like if it was constructed a long time ago. –C'mon, I want to show ya. –The accent, again.

We started to walk across the wet street, she leading the way onwards the odd house, I was unsure if I should follow her, but not having anything better to do…

-Here we are. – She said as we reached the wooden door that led towards the entrance of the house, which was awfully big now that I could see it closer. –Let me just…

The door creaked as she turned an old metallic key on it and pulled the rusty handle.

-¿Care to come in? -She said as she pointed the entrance of the house, which remained, expectantly, waiting for me.

I doubted for a second, but the curiosity was stronger this time, and I crossed the wooden door at the time she said.

-This is going to be fun.

¿What was I getting into?


	3. Final Chapter

_Inspiration_

The atmosphere was oppressive, the air inside the house was heavy and I had trouble with just breathing it. There weren't many things in the first room, just a table and a couple of books here and there, but there was something that indeed called my attention; a giant drawing of an eagle covering the main window.

The drawing was majestic, made with pure ink and skill, the details were perfect, almost like having the bird in front of you, the paper was a little rotten but it had taken the conditions of this place for Celestia knows how long, it had served its job.

-That's an interesting drawing. – I said, reaching Dust's attention on me, later on the drawing.

-Oh yeah, ¿do you like it? My grandmother made it. – I wasn't expecting that, but indeed if a mare knew how to draw like that, it had to be somepony important or at the very least, known.

-It looks gorgeous; it probably took a lot of work. – I knew how long stuff like this could take (I had seen an artist draw something similar and it took weeks for him to finish)

-Yeah, she liked birds a lot. - She started to walk towards what it looked like the kitchen, which was lighted with candles. I followed behind her, perhaps a little too scared of something happening if I stayed alone in the room.

-Thanks for letting me in, by the way. - I was as thankful as one can be; at least I wasn't in the cold breeze.

-Ya, don't worry about it. – She was serving two cups of what it looked like tea, or juice. –Here, drink it. – She offered me a cup, not leaving me any choice but just to do what she said.

The drink was soft, yet warm to the throat. It could have been alcohol or some type of cider, but I was (to my surprise) too thirsty to care. At the moment my head started to feel dizzy, and my vision, blurry, ¿was I drunk?

-¿What is this stuff? – The words seemed too long on my mouth, and I could barely spelled them right, thoughts rushed through my head but I couldn't make sense of any of them.

-Just something for you to relax. – She smiled at me, and took my hoof. –C'mon, I want to show you something. – Every step I gave seemed way too short know, the time, going faster around me, it looked like everything was moving way to fast, except for us.

We walked through the hallway, passing the stairs in what it looked to me as mere seconds. But then, we stopped, in front of a painting, which looked way too old.

-Look at the painting, White. – I tried to focus my eyes into the painting, but the thoughts passed through my head way too fast.

-I can't. – My head and vision going a bit slower as I said this.

-Yes you can, look at the painting. – My eyes finally focused on the painting, but this time I couldn't move them elsewhere, the painting suddenly got bigger, filling my sight and being my only thing, I could only hear, my and Dust's breathing.

Images of ponies came to my mind, like hallucinations, walking in the picture of a huge castle, their voices filling my thoughts; I could swear I was there, in the painting, listening to all the conversations around it. My mind could barely take this.

-Don't lose yourself, White. You are here, with me. – Dust's words kept me from getting more into the "hallucinations", but I kept listening to them, slow whispers in my head, telling stories and laughing at jokes. Everypony in the painting had a conversation and I was listening to all of them.

Suddenly, the night came in the painting, covering all the fields and the castle with moonlight. The ponies started to leave, moving and talking about how the moon and night were beautiful in its own way. The voices started to get lower, some disappeared right away, others took a bit more, but every voice finally stopped when the moon lighted the highest point of the castle.

And then, as the darkness filled my eyes and my body got heavier I heard:

-Good job, White.

The darkness filled my sight for a long time, only leaving with the presence of the sunlight. As the sun raised in my window I recovered consciousness, the mattress and covers were way too familiar, and when I opened my eyes, my thoughts were right: I was on my bed. My mind and head hurt, my eyes, slowly recovering the vision, quickly spotted that I was indeed on my room.

As I stand up, the memories came to my head. The visions, the voices, the painting, everything was there. I tried to locate somepony else on my room and finally on my house, but there was just no one there.

As I drunk the morning coffee, the thoughts came to my mind. I had what I wanted, material to write, and there was only one pony to thank.

I roamed around the market for a bit, asking about Mountain, but nopony seemed to know her. Tired I finally went to the town hall for some information, but unfortunately Mountain Dust was not known there.

I decided to ask about the house, and of who it was. But the response was...not what I was expecting.

-That house hasn't been occupied since the construction of Ponyville; it belonged to an anonymous pony that helped construct the city's first houses. At least here it doesn't say its name. Sorry, ma'am.

That response didn't actually tell me anything, but it answered some questions. I knew that I was never going to see Mountain Dust again. But I knew why, and so as she.

The only thing I have from hers is the memory of that yellow-coated pony that helped me out in my time of need.

Or at least, that's what I stayed with.

Thank you, Mountain Dust.


End file.
